Ladies, cats are not witches. Witches like blood not milk!

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Man, I like cats. 

Not terrifying or petrifying felines like Mufasa or Shere Khan. But felines like Garfield and Puss In Boots. They have my heart. Sneaky, disloyal and manipulative beauties. I’m particularly drawn to black furry cats. I like the outcast and the maligned.  

Why do I like cats? Oh, cats live life on their own terms. They know they don’t have nine lives and so don’t waste their time trying to please you. You are the one who wanted a pet, not them. 

Also, cats do not care about titles. Dogs can continue to be ‘man’s best friend’. Cats don’t give a hoot. They are very perceptive. They understand that titles come with responsibilities. You can’t be ‘man’s best friend’ and sleep and eat all day. You are expected to weigh in with some chores, like growl or look meancing at strangers (even if you are a Bichon Frise). Or go for a walk with the human. That’s an abuse of pethood. A pet doesn’t have to earn its keep. Cats look at huskies pulling sleds in Alaska and hiss ‘suckers.’  And it all begins with the conferment of titles. Because dolphins are ‘cute’ and ‘intelligent’, they have to entertain humans and jump through hoops when they’d rather be fin-deep in a school of fish. Cats don’t care for all that.  Responsibilities are for humans.

So, you are not going to trick cats into responsibilities with some title. They might chase down a mouse. But understand that it is because they want to do it and not because you expect them to. Back in the day, in the village, my grandma had three cats who never chase mice. These beauties just love to eat fufu and efo-riro and chill. Can’t blame them. Egbado (Yewa) people make the best fufu in the galaxy. And my grandma’s efo-riro could make Netanyahu kiss Hassan Rouhani.     

But sadly, I don’t have a cat. That is because I love to have a wife more than I love to be divorced. My wife hate cats. She argues that you can’t trust cats. Cats are gossips. They listen to your deepest secrets and spill them to the neighbours. And they are agents of evil, exposing your home to fiendish influences. 

It’s all baloney, of course. Cats are no more capable of witchery than cockroaches are capable of holiness. But making that point to people who abhor cats is like arguing sobriety with a tippler. 

We have a small white wolf in our home. Spin doctors call it a dog – an American Eskimo – but I didn’t start eating bony fish yesterday. It is a wolf. Only it is smaller and cutesy. Wanders from room to room. It’s pampered like William and takes a piss like Harry. My wife and daughters dote on this canine. They feed it before they feed me. Cuddle it more than they cuddle me. He enjoys the attention and then sneers at me.  

The mutt! I’m the one who pays for your welfare and comfort, you ungrateful cur!

I am going to poison him some day.

This white wolflet has destroyed three of my flip-flops and pisses anywhere he it wants, which includes my $1,200 soundbar. On the third occassion of the annhilation of my flip-flop, I told my daughter I was going to sell the damned dog. I made for it in mock ire. My daughters ran past me and held on tightly to this doggo. They cried and pleaded. Their tear drops were as big as cucumbers and plenteous enough to float Noah’s Ark. This sly canine has manipulated himself into my wife’s and daughters’ hearts. They will not allow me to mete out just deserts. Yet people accuse cats of being the crafty ones. A cat will never do that to me. You don’t even see a cat piss.

Do you old geezers remember that old flick, Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell? The German Shepherd bred by satanists. The dog grew up to colossal devilry. Killed the maid in a fire. Possessed the minds of its owner. In the last scene, the frightful demon in the dog came out to perish the soul of the dad. The symbol of a crucifix seared onto the man’s palm saved said dad. Dog bursts into flame and is imprisoned in hell for 1,000 years. That movie spooked me into my early teens. 

The title of the movie is instructive. It was Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell. Not Devil Cat: The Feline of Hell.

Yet folks say cats are the evil ones.

Anyway, I outgrew my fear of dogs. I realise that devil-dog movie was all phoney-baloney. Now, I like dogs. I am going to get me a big doggo soon. Probably a Great Dane or Irish Wolfhound. If only to scare the bejesus out of the frisky wolf in my house. 

See how easy it is for people to change? I went from dog-indifferent to dog-liker. So, why can’t people outgrow their abhorrence of cats? What does a cat have to do to get some love from Nigerian women? Buy them hair? Help them lose belly fat?  

The sad part is the missus has infected my daughters with cat-hate. They started out loving cats. I’d take them to a friend’s house and we’d go with tinned sardines and milk to feed his queen and her kittens. My girls loved feeding the pusses. They gave them names and were eager to visit. 

Once the missus discovered what we do at said friend’s house, she set about cooking our goose. Of course, it didn’t help that we purloined her sardines and milk for the visits. But as a good Christian wife, she ought to remember that love keeps no records of wrong. But cats make Nigerian women forget Scriptures. 

Or remember it. 

The missus proceeded to indoctrinate my kids on the vileness of cats. And once a mother abuses a mind, it is tough disabusing it. 

But I shall try. The spirits of Mufasa, Simba, Garfield and Tom are with me.

Several years ago at a local bar, I came across some despicable fellows who loved to eat cats. 

Eat cats!

Murderers!

If you can eat a cat, you can eat a human!

One of these repugnant fellows went ahead to describe how scrumptious a cat was in egusi soup. He particularly relished eating the paw. With a twinkle in his eyes, he described how a cat’s paws clutch the egusi. You then pry the paws open and lick the egusi balls trapped within. He said it was quite a heavenly experience. 

I stopped going to that beer parlour. 

By the way, do you know how cats are killed before being cooked? They put the cat in a sack and smash the sack repeatedly against a wall till the cat dies. At other times, they tie off the sack and proceed to batter the poor thing to death. They argue it’s the only safe way to kill a cat. 

How about you take on a cat your size? How about you put a tiger in a sack?

So, what myths and fears are holding you back? What are the long-held beliefs you are going to disabuse from your mind in 2022? 

While you ponder on it, check out the two beauties below. A black Maine Coon and a Siamese. Aren’t they gorgeous!

Maine Coon

 

Siamese

 

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